But This Is Solution, And This Is Amends
by patriciancore
Summary: AU fic. Naomi is used to living with the feeling of cold deep in her bones. So a flame presents itself to warm her, but can she let go of everything she had already taken as certain in her life? There will be angst. Rated M for language and sexual content
1. Chapter 1

**A Naomily fanfiction by patriciancore**

**Hi everybody! I'm fairly new to the fandom and even newer to writing, but after spending the last few months immersed in Naomily fanfiction, I really felt propelled to give it a go, because I became so passionate about it. This borrows a lot from what I've read on here, I'm just adding up bits and pieces of what really grabbed me on the stories I read, and trying to make it all come to some sort of sense.  
Keep in mind English is not my first language, I'll try my best to make the characters sound english but there's a big chance I might fail at that. All mistakes are mine  
**

**Hope you enjoy!  
**

**Prelude**

She's married now. She's finally gone and settled down. Changed her surname to Mitch's. At least there's a recurring joke she managed to get rid of in her life. She puts on his shirt after he rolls off her with a content sigh, and feels the night air turn to ice when it makes the shirt stick to her sweaty skin as she steps out for a smoke. It's a good change she thinks, the way the shivers make her feel alive in a way that the warm, cozy air inside can't. Of course, she can't help but to wonder. Why? What's missing?

It's funny how your life can turn out completely different from what you envisioned. She looks at her daily routine, and it's such a bitch because it's all it is and it's all it's ever been: A routine. It didn't change when she started dating Mitch, the shy copy director at the newspaper she worked for. She thought she'd try to do it differently this time. Maybe, all the past times the problem really wasn't with them, all her past relationships have always ended because of something that she lacked. Just maybe, she was a little bit too hard to deal with, as her mother always told her. So she changed her clothing, changed her hair, and slowly as she accommodated her life to Mitch's, she changed her attitude.

Gone was the idealist kid who had so much passion in her heart, always getting the best grades in politics, so sure they meant she was destined to one day make the world a better place. She felt special back then, like her life was her own to live, she had a purpose and made sure she'd be prepared for it. Of course she wasn't quite so prepared to be turned down by every newspaper she tried, doors slammed to her face so hard it made her fly right to this position as a writer for a shitty local newspaper. She had tried the first few issues to instigate a change, placing her words just so that they might start a flicker of flame, maybe. But she'd been doused in cold water again and again by the editor and now she'd gotten used to feeling cold in her bones, like it had always been there.

Yeah, her life changed a lot, she mused as she took one last draw of her cigarette, and she couldn't quite place where it had started, but surely it was there now. She called it the routine. She blamed it on the routine. This perpetuating feeling of dormancy, this dull ache that seemed to pulse everywhere around her, never in the same beat as her heart. She'd hated it, it was always what she most despised, swore to herself in her teen years she'd never let her life fall in a steady pace. But she didn't know how to fight it anymore, so she'd given up to it, and now she was forcing her heart to go with the beat.

Naomi flicked her cigarette butt over the balcony and watched with interest as the little flame flied down in the direction of a homeless person walking by. She was hoping the cigarette would hit him. She was hoping it'd hit a patch of gasoline and burn everything up, red reflecting on her skin and warmth fighting off the cold.

* * *

**PART I: Cocoon**

**Chapter 1**

"It's safe, isn't it?" Naomi asks as she eyes the container in her hand "I can definitely see some tiny metal lines though, Right here! God damned nancy designers why do they have to make it difficult for us" She turns around with a scoff and crashes onto Mitch who grabs the container from her hand.

"Tell you what, we put it in there, we hit the start button and then we hide under the table in case it explodes" He says as he holds the pot just above her reach, smiling into her eyes.

"Oh fuck off Mitch, it's not like I think it'll explode, I just don't want our damn microwave to go to shit, we only just bought it"

"Well, I'm willing to risk our microwave if it means I get a sodding meal in the next 5 minutes. If I'm late for work I can get fired and THEN we won't even have the money to replace the bloody thing when it goes to shit" And with a loud bang he closes the microwave door and turns it on. He reaches for her then, grabbing her elbows and pulling at her blouse as she half-heartedly fights his embrace.

"Was this our first domestic fight? How did I do then, did I do okay?" He whispers jokingly and she can't help but to smile, "No you were right shit at it. I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to have a few bruises by now. A black eye at least" putting a little more effort into getting away from his embrace, just to drive the point home

"And where are my broken furniture then? Or my clothes scattered about the place? A man can't do a domestic fight alone you know"

"Yeah I'm quite sure there's little a man can do alone in a home other than jerking off and smelling his farts all day"

"Oh my darling, always so delicate! That's why I chose you" He leans in for a kiss but gets interrupted as they hear a crack from the microwave, then another and another and by the fourth one Naomi's already hit the cancel button and opened up the door as if expecting a fire to be inside.

"Well now, there's your half-heated food and I'll let you know later whether you'll have to work a few extra hours to fix this" She says as she hands the slightly deformed plastic pot to him, and stalks off with a little content smile. So the microwave was probably totaled. Who cares, at least she'd won her first domestic fight.

She's constantly in contact with Mitch now that he'd been promoted to head editor. She saw enough of him before, always sending in texts, getting called out for the odd foul word here and there. So when she gets called to his office the fifth time that day, right as she was indulging in a little bit of gossip reading on her computer, she takes 3 deep breaths before getting up from her chair. It's not like he irritates her. He's a lovely man, really. And she's found it in her heart to love him, although this wasn't how she had wanted it. She'd never wanted love to develop. She'd wanted it to hit her right in the face, she'd wanted to have that kind of love that is ever present and ever aware, that makes your body squirm and your ears burn just by being in the presence of your lover. Like it was in the books. But fuck the books, they never got her anywhere, did they?

With that thought, she eased onto a lighter pace and broke out a small devilish smile as she opened the door to his office "Mitch I swear to God if you're calling me here to try it on with me again I'll – " It was Mitch's wary eyes that made her stop talking. Something was off. She took another step in the room, coming in completely and closing the door. Never taking her eyes off Mitch, she noticed out of the corner of her eye there was somebody else in the room, standing right beside her. Shit.

"Naomi, I'd like you to meet Emily Fitch, our new photographer." Mitch said in a slightly strangled tone, and Naomi felt her cheeks burn. Oddly, as she turned her head completely to face the new photographer, she was taken by the scorching feeling spreading from her cheeks throughout her body. Well I've never been so embarrassed in my life, have I?

* * *

**Okay, so I'm trying to work out how to make this story better presentable with the tools, hopefully it'll get smoother down the line. Sorry if this was a bit hard to read!  
Please comment, I'd really like some constructive criticism! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, before going on I'd like to explain that I did a slight mistake with Mitch's promotion on the newspaper. He's not supposed to be the head director, he's a managing director, he deals with the everyday stuff and guides the staff, but he definitely has people above him. **

**Without further ado, commence Naomi's long descend into frustration and denial:  
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**Chapter 2**

"Fuck. I think I might be coming down with something." Naomi says as she touches her forehead with the back of her hand. She always feels a bit stupid after doing that. What is the point in trying to judge your temperature with your own hand? It's attached to your body, it's on the same perspective as you are and it can be easily persuaded to tell you whatever you want. _Well yeah it's a bit warm, but that's a good sign, means I'm alive yeah? I'm sure it only feels hot because I'm not used to touching my forehead, this is normal temperature. Do you agree hand? Yes? Great! that's settled then. I'm glad we agree. _Even though you can feel the back of your eyes burning.

So she reaches across the bed where Mitch lies reading a book and lands her hand unceremoniously across his forehead. "For good measure"

"You do know it should be the other way 'round, yeah? I should be the one taking your temperature"  
"I'll be the judge of my own bloody temperature thank you very much"

Naomi hears Mitch snicker as she stands up and goes to her drawer, looking for some clean knickers, and it gets a bit harder than usual to hang her head low and safely look for a piece of clothing without falling straight into the drawer and the knickers. The wood in which they reside is a bit uninviting though, so she tries to stand as still as she can manage. Obviously she's not giving this might-be-a-cold enough credit. This isn't serious though, is it? No it's not. Hand told me so.

A strong wave of tiredness and discomfort invades her so she quickly grabs the first pair of knickers in sight, the red colour might suggest plans for later but there aren't any, really. Her body just feels so heavy and unfamiliar lately, though it might just be her usual tiredness, yet another great feature the routine has brought into her life.

"So, you never said what your impressions were on our new photographer. She's quite the acquisition I reckon, I was reviewing her contract and her salary is a fucking outrage. I don't understand what's so crucial about having a house photographer but Julio was adamant about hiring her…"

And down goes her head.

A tiny blackout moment. Naomi was sure she hit the drawer, then slid off to the ground, back of her head hitting the bed's foot just for good measure. But the blood, it was surely from the first blow. What was the first blow again? Something came before the wood, red knickers maybe…

"…maybe he just wants to fuck her, yeah I'm sure that's it. That old slimey sod isn't getting any at home for years is he? But he just had to use the goddamned company's money to-"

"Will you just shut the fuck up?" She had been still standing, of course. Not even a sway evident enough for Mitch to have noticed her little blackout. The words pass by her mouth unchecked

"I don't fucking care about the company's money, or the goddamned new photographer. I'm going for a shower, jesus" She was talking and walking to the bathroom at the same time, quite a multitask if you count the incredibly weighty thoughts swirling around in her head

"The last thing I want to hear about after a tiring day of work is the likes of some sodding new employee I couldn't give a fuck about, lighten the fuck up a little bit Mitch," So it had been some kind of a fever-induced hallucination, "Let's talk about art," but then if that's all it was, why does she still see the blood red so vividly swimming around her vision? "or knickers or something" She had already closed the door then.

* * *

It's definitely a cold. Naomi's sitting at her desk, gathering discarded tissues here and there to try and clear up the chaos a little bit when she hears footsteps approaching. Some of the stuff that flew to the trash in a desperate attempt not to be seen in the midst of a nasty-tissue apocalypse might have been important notes, but passing as a civilized human being with hygiene standards is kind of a priority right now.

"Ayo Naomikins. We all heading to the pub later to welcome Emily to the team, you up for it?"

"Can't. I have a cold."

"Well it's a sure good thing medicine exists then, isn't it?" Cook says heartily as he rearranges himself inside the tiny cubicle, trying to make eye contact with Naomi who's been going about her papers since he came over "I know you're a married lass now and all that but that don't mean we can't have some good times now and then. I miss our pissing about"

"Cook, I –"

"Oh, go on then! Even Julio's gonna stomach a few extra hours in the company of us working class peeps, reckon it's mostly cause he fancies himself some of the young meat you know?"

She snaps her head up "why does everybody keep saying that?"

"Saying what?"

"That Julio wants to hook up with Emma" Why it occurred to her that she should use the wrong name she'll never know. But she did feel very strongly like she had to. Like it's her making a point or something

"Emily. And I wasn't even talking about her, I was talking about all of us who work here and were born a bit later than the 60's, only a few days into 1971 will make a good enough change for the old chap" Naomi opens and closes her mouth a few times, not quite sure what to say. Her uncertainty gives room for Cook to continue once he stops laughing at his own joke "But yeah of course I reckon he'll be all over our little red bird, I mean who wouldn't really, you seen her already?"

"I –"

"Cook will you please get back to your desk? It's still work hours you know. Thank you."

She watches as Cook's figure moves out of the way and Mitch comes into her vision. Isn't he a welcome sight. Always good to see him, yeah.

"Hey honey, I could hear you sneezing and moaning from the other side of the office so I bought you some advil I found in my desk"

"Oh thank you, thank you! My head's killing me. Don't know how I didn't have the mind to just grab some on my way out today." She takes the pills from his hand and downs them down in one go, leaving Mitch's other hand still sticking out holding a glass of water. "I don't know what I'd do without you, really. I love you so much"

The words come out so truthfully he is even taken aback a little bit.

By now he's gotten quite used to Naomi's foul mood, he knows he should feel it a welcome change when Naomi lightens up, and if he's being honest, it's probably true that most his hours in her company are spent trying to please her. It's all he ever did, but when something so small makes such a huge change in her character, it scares him a little bit. The reality of a laid back, affectuous Naomi makes him a bit unnerved, though he's not quite sure why.

"Seems like you needed it badly enough. I love you too… So I gather you're not coming to Emily's welcome party?"

"Yeah, no I don't think so."

"Well, I was going to take the chance to try and chat Julio up on getting us a new printer, the whole floor has been begging for one, God knows that piece of shit was already bad enough when I first came in, but if you're suffering so much I guess I can stay home and look after you, make you some soup or something, what do you reckon?"

"Nah, I can just grab some on my way home. You go on and spoil Julio's fun by being a boring sod and going on about work. Besides we both know you're a shit cook."

That's more like it.

* * *

After the husband left, the evening goes on uneventfully. Alone at home, sitting right in the middle of the bed with a book and cup of tea going cold on the bedside table. It's quite comfortable, the silence. Even the ache in her head, if she's still enough, becomes sort of comfortable. Naomi wonders if this is what happened to her, accommodating to the routine to the point it's barely noticeable, just a reason for her to hold her head and move carefully and slowly whenever she needs to go somewhere, a defensive stance. She's been comparing her life to a big ethereal cold for a while when the phone rings, Mitch's number flashing on the screen

"What's up hubby"

"Hello, Naomi? This is Emily Fitch" A raspy voice comes through the speaker and she's suddenly aware of the awfully uncomfortable position she finds herself in, stretched across the bed with her face close to the bedside table. It makes her skin itch. "I'm calling because I think you need to come down here, Mitch's drank one too many, he's pretty much passed out in the bar. I don't think he can make it back home on his own"

"Oh... Okay… yeah I'll go get him"

"Okay"

"Okay" and she shuts the phone. She feels like she should be angry at Mitch for being a dumb son of a bitch, but right now the nervousness and embarrassment she's feeling are too overwhelming. She'll have to show up at the pub to pick up her mess of a drunken husband, all the while feeling and looking like death loomed over. Once again she'll expose her miserable life and marriage in front of people from work, particularly in front of this new employee she's barely been in the presence of, other than that disastrous introduction.

She positions herself back in the middle of her bed and the uncomfortable feeling does not go away.

* * *

**So, who's excited for the meeting of Naomi and Emily, redux? (featuring Mitch being a miserable bastard). Finally some interaction! It's probably going to be a longer chapter too, yay!  
Once again thanks for reading and reviewing :)**


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